The Fourth Exorcist
by Kusabiishi
Summary: He wasn't born; he was made. He wasn't trained; he evolved. He reached the maximum level that an Akuma could achieve. Nearly human already, his "father" helped him bridge the gap. He helped him hide his true nature behind a scar and taught him how to truly be "human", even if that had never really been his intention.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Weird idea that I found in my "Long List Of Story Ideas I Had Like Two Years Ago" folder and decided to play with. Probably not doing it justice, but hey, I'm having fun with it! Hope you guys enjoy it and that you're not completely confused by anything, I guess? Haha~

**Disclaimer: **I don't own DGM—and that's probably a good thing.

Minor edits done on 1/30/2015.

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><p>It was like his whole body had been set on fire, pain pulsing through him as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Struggling against the pair of hands holding him down was all he could do. Every time he so much as twitched his fingers, the shape he took changed, like a snake shedding its skin in favor of a new one. From black hair to blue, tanned skin to pale porcelain, his appearance kept changing dramatically. When the writhing agony came to an abrupt end, so did his shape shifting and without even giving him a moment to register what had happened, asphyxiation set in. Immediately, his body began giving him demands that he didn't understand. His lips moving without making a sound as he tried desperately to ask a single question.<p>

What's going on?

Bright blue eyes flew open as the hands on his slender shoulders tightened their grip, though not painfully so. Again, he struggled against the stranger's hold. His eyes stung, as if pricked by a needle, water beginning to accumulate on the surface of them.

_What is this?_

"Woah, woah! Calm down! You're okay now!"

The man holding him down had a deep, melodic voice that struck a chord with him. _Lord Noah_, something inside him told him. Like an alarm bell going off, his body started screaming at him to _run._

_What is this?!_

Something wet ran down his cheeks. He didn't understand! It— It wasn't raining, so why— No! Now was not the time! Now was— It was—

He needed to run away. Lord Noah was going to kill him_._

"You have to _breath_, little one! Like this!" Lord Noah spoke, sucking some invisible substance into his mouth before releasing it from captivity. "See?"

No matter the desire to run, the pressure swelling in chest was making it impossible to think of much else. It felt like it was crushing him. As Lord Noah commanded, he did his best to imitate his actions, opening his mouth and roughly taking in the formless substance. A gasp broke past his pale lips as the pain in his chest started to subside. With each 'breath' he took, the pressure dissipated more, like it was a reward for doing as Lord Noah had instructed.

The most immediate problem was solved and he tensed up as fragile blue eyes met the stifling amber ones of the dark-skinned man holding him down. He wasn't struggling anymore. If anything, his limbs refused to move.

_Run away._

This awful, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach grew and something akin to a gasp escaped his throat, the water leaking from his eyes falling even faster now.

Now that his fighting had finally ceased and his "breathing" was beginning to even out, disregarding the strange noises coming from his own throat that sounded more like a dog's whimpering, Lord Noah's lips turned upwards into what the humans called a smile. Smiles were supposed to help weren't they? He'd read that in a book once. They were supposed to calm people, warm them, but not this one. The feeling wouldn't pass; it told him to get out of his Lord Noah's sight, to run away as fast and as far away as his legs would take him.

"L-L-Lord No—"

A finger touched to his lips. Lord Noah hushed him and he obeyed, the action being enough to scare him into silence. Lord Noah stopped to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks, the man's smile never ceasing even when he visibly flinched at the touch. A strange, soft sound escaped his throat against his will, but it was more like the whine of a wounded animal than any noise a human could make.

"Allen," the man in front of him said. "That's your name."

"N-No, my name's—"

"It's Allen now."

Blue eyes looked up at his Lord Noah; he didn't understand the purpose of changing his name, but he didn't dare question him further. Beneath those stifling amber eyes and the man's scrutinizing gaze, Allen's only comfort was searching the room for something else to do look at, but the better part of the room was obscured from his line of sight by his Lord Noah.

"Look." Allen obeyed, looking up as his Lord Noah stepped out of the way to reveal a mirror. He sat up fully, no longer leaning back again the solid white couch and found someone other than himself looking back at him from the other side of the mirror. They had hair whiter than freshly fallen snow that clashed with what had once been the color of rust. Pale porcelain skin replaced the dull brown of before and the skin around their eye swelled with what appeared to be a fresh scar, forming a pentagram above their eye and stretching all the way down the left side of their face. It reminded him of a lightning bolt.

Blinking back at the blue eyes reflected in the mirror, Allen's head tilted slightly to the side as he took in the change of appearance. When had he done that? Was that really him? He reached up to touch the pentagram, jumping slightly when the reflection mimicked his movements. He pressed two fingers to it and winced; it was sensitive and very tender to the touch.

That person in the mirror really was him, wasn't it?

"You're no longer an Akuma, Allen."

"Then what am I?" he asked, staring at what he now realized was his own reflection. His Lord Noah merely pointed at something—his left arm, specifically—and Allen looked down at it.

He screamed.

An ugly, red, gnarled hand stared back at him, the telltale sign of an Exorcist embedded into it as if it had been _burned _into the skin. He recoiled at the sight of the glowing cross on the back of his hand.

"W-W-what is—"

"This is your 'Innocence', Allen." The dark-haired man leaned in to inspect it, but stopped short of touching it. Wide, blue eyes looked up at him, hoping for some kind of an explanation. Why him?! Why had the Innocence attached itself to _him_?!

Wh-what was going to happen to him...?!

"From this day fourth, Allen, you're human." Allen wanted to say that made no sense, perhaps that the man was crazy. Because he couldn't be human. It was impossible. Everyday, he'd felt things he didn't understand, but once upon a time, he'd just been another mindless killing machine. He'd evolved, as all Akuma did and had been able to forgo following vague orders in favor of doing what he desired to, but this...?

"Th-that's n-not..."

"Possible? But it is. It's a gift, Allen."

"A gift?"

Had he done something to deserve something so rare as a gift from his Lord Noah, especially one like _this? _It didn't even seem like it could be real in a million years.

His Lord Noah nodded, smiling once again. "I guess I'm trying to butter you up."

"Butter me up...? A-are you saying..." he paused, raindrops falling from his eyes once more, though he wasn't sure they'd ever truly stopped. "Y-you're going to e-eat me?"

His Lord Noah slammed his palm against his forehead and Allen winced. Didn't that hurt? Why would he do that? Was he punishing himself for letting his plans slip? "No, Allen, I'm not going to eat you; it's an expression. It means... I'm doing something nice for you, so you might return the favor."

"Oh..."

Allen sat there, staring at his Lord Noah. With the hand that had previously touched the pentagram above his eye, he felt the wetness flowing freely down his cheeks that didn't seem to show any sign of stopping now. He looked back to his reflection, the blue eyes that were he now knew were his own had become red and puffy, not terribly unlike the scar on the left side of his face.

Was he truly human?

"L-Lord Noah—"

"My name is Neah."

"Lord Neah..."

"No, no," he said, waving a finger in front of his face. A strange, but not unpleasant, sound escaped his throat. "Call me 'Neah'. _Just _Neah."

"Ne... N-Neah..."

Blue eyes looked up into amber, at the man who wore a smile on his face. A strange warmth blossomed in his chest and all Allen could think to do was return that smile as best as he could.

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><p>Blue eyes stared intently on the creature creeping across the fallen tree trunk that he was crouched before. It was small and red with black spots covering its back and he ignored the sound of crunching leaves and twigs behind him in favor of observing the small creature.<p>

"_There _you are, Allen. I've been looking all over for you."

"Neah, Neah!" Allen said excitedly, gesturing with his hands for him to come and look at what had just become his newest discovery. Neah drew closer and leaned forward with his hands resting on his knees to get a good look at the creature Allen was excitedly pointing at. "Look!"

He chuckled and Allen's face lit up as he looked back to him. "So excited over a little ladybug?"

"A ladybug?" Allen asked curiously, brows arching at the revelation. "So, there's a sirbug?" As if trying to answer his own question, he looked over the rest of the trunk for any bug that might be the one he was searching for. What color was it, he wondered? If a ladybug was red, then would a sirbug be blue? Or perhaps purple? Neah laughed and Allen's lips puffed up into a pout. "What's so funny?"

"There's no 'sirbug', Allen. There's only ladybugs."

"Oh..." Allen muttered, eyes turning back to the speckled beauty he'd spent the past half an hour observing. "That sounds lonely..."

Neah reached over and ruffled his white locks, messing up the small ponytail on the side of his head that Mana had been kind enough to help him with earlier. Allen let out a short whine as he pushed the man's hand away. "You're messing up my hair, Fa—" He stopped himself from finishing his sentence. His face flushed a bright red as he furiously combed his hair back to how it had been before, only succeeding in making the mess worse and loosening his ponytail further.

"'Fa...'?"

Neah looked at him expectantly, but Allen only adverted his eyes, refusing to meet the man's piercing gaze.

"'Father'?"

Allen stiffened. How did he guess that?! There were lots of words that started like that, weren't there?! Allen looked back at the man and he watched, mortified, as a smile spread across Neah's face. He could feel heat rising to his already red cheeks. With amber eyes boring down at him, Allen started fidgeting, twiddling his thumbs together. "W-well, I, um... A-A father is someone who made you, right? ... A-and they teach you a lot and care for you and raise you and..."

Neah laughed, Allen shrinking back. W-was he mad? He didn't sound mad—and he didn't do that thing he does where his eyebrows dip in the middle of his forehead and he rolls his eyes up to look at the ceiling!

"And you think of me as your father?"

Allen only stared a moment, glancing around. Whether he was looking for an opening to run away from the conversation or hope Neah's brother would burst onto the scene, he didn't honestly know. Finally, he hastily nodded.

"Okay."

Wait. Okay, what?

Allen cocked his head to the side slightly.

Again, Neah laughed. "You can call me Father." With the clarification, blue eyes widened. Quickly, Allen's shock turned into something else and he beamed at his newly-appointed Father.

"Really?!" he asked, receiving only a nod and a smile. Like a child, he jumped up and down a couple of times excitedly, repeating the word. "Father, Father, Fa_ther_!" The third time he said the word, he jumped at his Father, flinging his arms around him.

"Whoa-oh!" They toppled to the ground. The impact was painful, probably more so for his Father than him, but judging by his laughter, he didn't seem to care much.

Truth be told, neither did Allen.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Nearly a month later and finally, I've got the second chapter here! I got really turned around in terms of what I was planning on doing with the story. Or rather, I wasn't sure in the first place and decided I didn't like what I had. But I think I've got it a little better sorted out now, though. I hope. Haha. Thanks to those of who reviewed and to those of you who liked the first chapter enough to favorite it or add it to your alerts! I hope this chapter holds your interest!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own DGM!

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><p>Allen frowned deeply as he sat in the one room he was confined to within his Father's "Ark". His Father had certain responsibilities he had to attend to with the "other side" of his family and his Uncle couldn't always sit with him while he waited for his father to return, so he'd been stuck here for the better part of two hours alone.<p>

Well, not entirely alone.

His only company was an ivory piano sitting in the middle of the room—which has father had expressly told him he wasn't to touch—and a golden golem that seemed to have taken a liking to him since his father introduced them, having found a spot to nestle into his white hair.

"When do you think Father's going to be back, Tim?"

He glanced upwards, but the golem's position made it impossible to see it. It didn't respond, though that was to be expected; it couldn't have a mouth, after all.

After what felt like an _eternity _of waiting, the door finally opened. Allen jumped up from his seat on the couch as his Father stepped into the room,nearly sending the golem tumbling to the floor from the speed of the movement. As his father stepped over the threshold of the door, it closed behind him, fading out of existence.

"Father!" Allen said, embracing the man who was only taller by a few inches.

His father managed to smile, but something seemed off about it, even to someone as ignorant as Allen. "Sorry for keeping you waiting, Allen," he said, heaving a sigh. His eye lids drooped and it was easy to see that he was exhausted, yet without fail, he still posed the question that Allen had been waiting all afternoon to hear.

"What do you want to do today, Allen?"

Humming softly, he considered what they could possibly do together. Maybe something relaxing, something easy that wouldn't cause his father further stress. Finally, one of his trademark smiles lit up his face and he said, "I want to meet your family."

His father didn't answer, though, and the longer the silence prevailed, the more nervous it made the white-haired young man. Allen's smile fell.

"Father?"

"You can't," his father finally responded. Allen wasn't sure whether to be upset by his answer or relieved that he'd at least given him one, but he pouted regardless. It wasn't fair; he got to see them all the time, didn't he? Allen hadn't gotten to even meet a single one of them. He didn't even know what they looked like. "I don't want you getting attached."

"Why would that matter, Father? Aren't families supposed to get attached?" Allen knew he probably shouldn't have asked. As his father always said, curiosity killed the cat and Allen couldn't remember how many lives they were supposed to have or if humans had that benefit, too.

Something about his father seemed more sinister this time, though. There was no playful chuckle, no reminder about the cat with curiosity... Nothing.

"F-Father?"

Allen shrank back, arms slipping from around his father. His father stood there in silence, glowering at nothing in particular. In fact, it looked like his ire was directed more at the mirror behind them than him.

"Because one day, you're going to help me kill them."

Blue eyes blinked up at his father. "But..." He paused, mulling over his father's words. Of course, his father was very nice and kind and gentle; he wouldn't just decide to do something like this on a whim. He was a good man and good men didn't do things like that. Allen could say without a single doubt that he had a very good reason for wanting to do something like that. "I don't think I'll be very good at that, but I'll do my best for you, Father."

His father looked at him as Allen flashed him the biggest, _brightest _smile he could manage. His efforts were rewarded when his father's grim demeanor finally broke and he, too, cracked a smile. Like so many times before, a hand landed roughly on his head, tousling the white locks.

"Father, you're messing up my hair!"

Retreating from the offending hand, Allen tried to salvage the small ponytail on the side of his head, more than a couple locks of hair escaping the red ribbon holding it captive. When he realized it was an impossible endeavor, he pouted and untied the ribbon that his uncle had used to pull it up earlier that day.

"You're a good boy, Allen," his father said, Allen still pouting as the ribbon was taken from him and used for its actual intended purpose. His father looped it around his neck and tied it into a neat bow before patting him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go find something to do in town."

Allen nodded, stopping only to look in the mirror at the ribbon now wrapped perfectly around his collar. He frowned; he liked it better before.

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><p>Exiting the gate created by his father, they entered a dark alleyway, quickly leaving it behind in favor of the rest of the town. It was bustling with life, children running and laughing and playing while adults went about their daily duties, whether that was tending to their stall in the market or shopping at one.<p>

A innocent smile spread across Allen's equally innocent features. Things like this served to pleasantly remind him why he'd been so curious about humans in the first place, even before he'd become one himself. They were doing such similar things, but they were all going about it differently. They had different mannerisms and tones—even the way they moved was different from one another. It was easy to see, but hard to mimic and that was what made it...

What was the word his father had used once? Fascinating?

Yes, that was it!

As the two of them wandered around the marketplace, he prattled on about nothing in particular, pointing out every little thing of interest. He kept tugging on his father's coat, whispering when it was a person—experience told him that people didn't like being pointed at—and gesturing to what grabbed attention when it wasn't. His father seemed amused by his fascination—or it seemed he did, with the way he kept laughing.

And then he stopped suddenly. Allen, his hand on his father's arm, was pulled to a stop, too.

"Father?"

"Hide." The word was barely above a whisper and for a split second, Allen wondered if he'd heard at all. But he obeyed. Whether he'd heard him wrong or his father had actually told him that, Allen didn't stop to ask. He stepped behind his father, into his shadow.

In the span of only a few seconds, white hair turned pitch black. Every inch of him—his eyes, his skin, his clothes—followed suite and fell formless into the ground and into the black shadow like that was all he'd ever been.

Just then, he heard it: A distinctly girlish gasp.

"Neah!" Not a second later, a young girl crashed into his father. If she'd been more than a little girl, Allen would've been surprised that he 'd managed to stay standing upright. "Why'd you run off so fast?" Allen peered up at the two of them from his father's shadow with intense curiosity. If she hadn't been there, he would've asked his father who the young girl was, but he kept his lipless mouth shut.

His father laughed, but it sounded different. It sounded happier and Allen felt a twinge of an emotion of some kind that was entirely new to him. Why didn't he laugh like that around him? Was there something about him that kept him from doing so or was it her that made the difference?

The girl in question was small, with spiky hair so black that it was nearly blue in the light. She had pale skin and dark eyes, but something about her made Allen want to run far, far away.

It was the same feeling that Allen had had when he first laid eyes on his father.

"You have to admit it was pretty boring."

She hummed, a smile spreading across her face that put even Allen at ease. "That's true," she said. "Then let's go do something fun, Neah!"

Neah shook his head, apparently conscious of Allen's growing interest in their discussion. What were they talking about? What was boring? His father never told him what he did with his family and though Allen had never even attempted to veil his curiosity, his father hadn't showed the slightest inclination of wanting to tell him about them.

"I have something I need to do today, Road." The girl's face contorted into a deep frown for only a few seconds before that bright smile returned to it with a vengeance and they talked a few more minutes—which mainly consisted of her trying to pry into what his plans were—before she departed at last, enthusiastically waving her hand at him as she went. Several minutes passed and Allen was starting to wonder if his father would ever okay him coming out when at last he did. "Okay, Allen, you can come out."

Part of his father's shadow rose up and separated from the ground, the inky blackness gradually turning back into the white-haired teen from before. Suddenly standing on two legs again, he stumbled and his father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards him before Allen could end up on the ground.

"Allen!"

"I-I'm fine," he said, shaky on his legs. "I just... haven't done that in a while." An aching pain shot through his skull, like it was about to crack open and he winced.

His father noticed, of course. He was the smartest man that he knew, after all. "Let me look at your eye," he said, pulling Allen's Innocence hand away from it and making Allen tilt his head back so he could get a better look at it. "We should go back. Your scar's starting to bleed."

"B-but—"

He cut himself off as he bit his lip, realizing that his eye _was _bleeding. Now that his father had mentioned it, he could feel something wet sliding down the left side of his face, where the pain originated from. It was a gross feeling and Allen moved to touch it, so he could identify it.

He knew his eye was bleeding, but...

_What was the color of blood?_

What did it look, taste, smell and feel like?

He'd been an Akuma; he'd killed people, but it was too hard to remember that time. It was hazy, like a dream he'd forgotten about upon waking. If not for his ability, he might've well and truly thought it was a dream.

Before he could touch his face, his father pushed his hand back down. But why? Should he not know? Did he not want him to? He would have to kill the Noah, wouldn't he? Did he dare to ask if it mattered one way or the other?

A hundred and one questions swirled in his head, yet he hadn't the will to voice them. Compared to only a few minutes ago, he was suddenly feeling weaker. Wordlessly, he was pulled back into the alley they'd only barely stepped out of and into the Gate that opened at his father's command.

The minute they stepped through the gate, any concerns about that mysterious girl and the blood were swept away almost in their entirety, replaced only by disappointment. He'd been looking forward to spending the day with his father, even if they'd only been walking around town.

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><p>When they arrived back in the piano room, he didn't ask a single question. Allen was quickly sat down on the stark white couch as his father retrieved a few things from another part of the Ark. When he returned, he began cleaning the blood off his eye. Allen squeezed his eye shut as the cold, damp cloth was dabbed against the sensitive scar on his face.<p>

"Does that hurt?"

"Uh uh."

It was a bit of a lie; there was a small tingling pain when the cloth touched the sensitive skin, but he didn't want his father to worry. He was sure he had better things to think about.

The single blue eye that stayed open throughout the process looked up at his father. "Was that girl your family, Father?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him as he gave in and asked the question, hoping his father would bother answering. His father's eyebrows dipped in and Allen adverted his gaze. Uh oh... He'd made him angry, hadn't he?

But instead of getting angry, his father sighed. After a long minute of silence, he said, "Yes, she was. Don't worry about her for now. Let's talk about your eye."

"Okay..."

"Do you know why it's bleeding?"

Allen shook his head. This was the first time it had happened. Was he supposed to know?

"Allen, this is your natural form, you understand?" Allen's eyebrows furrowed. Of course he understood that. Even when he'd been an Akuma, he'd had a 'natural form'. Sensing his confusion, his father continued, "You changed your form."

"But I've done that before... Is it because I haven't done it much since I was an Akuma?"

His father offered him a smile. "That's right. We also talked for a good ten minutes." Had he grown unused to his ability? Had he "forgotten" how to use it?

"Father, you said I was human now, right?" he asked as his Father finished cleaning away the blood and threw the cloth onto the table beside him. Allen barely spared it a glance, but didn't miss the red stain on it. So that was the color of blood, then. It was a pretty color, like the lonely ladybug that had once caught his eye.

In response to Allen's question, his father nodded. "If I'm human, why can I still shape shift, like when I was an Akuma?"

That had been his ability: Changing his form and his appearance. He could assume the identity of anyone or anything, whether that was a person or their very shadow. It had been so easy then and in spite of his bleeding eye, it hadn't felt any different until he'd tried to change back. It had been easy to turn into a shadow and easy to stay that way.

"Well... It's more complicated than that."

"... What do you mean?"

"This," his father said, touching the pentagram on his forehead with his hand. "Hides your nature from Akuma, Noah and even some of the more... observant Exorcists. And this..."

This time, he gestured to his arm.

"This is what allows you to move freely. It keeps my brothers and sisters, and even myself, from being able to force you to do something. It also helps to protect you from the Innocence that the Exorcists have."

"Protect me?"

His father hummed before explaining, "As an Akuma, your body naturally produced Dark Matter and that's still true. Your Innocence protects you from Exorcists being able to attack that." Nothing had changed, had it? He remembered that, when he was an Akuma, he lost any desire to kill; he forgot the need to follow his Lord Noah's orders. Had he had this Innocence the entire time? When had that happened?

"So, in the end... I'm still..."

His father didn't speak for a moment. Blue eyes bore into him, prickling with fresh tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. Instead of speaking, a hand landed on his head for the second time that day and his hair was ruffled as his father let out a laugh.

"Barely. You're human to me."

Allen managed to force a weak smile, but it was hard to hide his disappointment when the first few tears made their way down his cheeks.

He wanted to be human, too, just like his father.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hope that wasn't too confusing, guys!


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